Whetstones of the Will by R J Hanson

Author:R J Hanson [Hanson, R J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hanson Publishing
Published: 2020-05-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter VI

Asunder

“That’s the best I can do,” Maloch said as he returned to the deep shadows of the underbrush where Dunewell lay. “If I alter the spell any more than the results may become… unpredictable.”

“It should be enough,” Dunewell whispered back.

Dunewell looked again to the small meadow where he and Jonas first met Maloch and where now a small fire burned. It was perhaps an hour after the sun had set, and the two girls, neither had spoken a word to Dunewell or Maloch the entire time, sat and ate of Dunewell’s smoked fish.

They had met Maloch in the afternoon, and Ranoct and his men should have encountered Maloch’s time spell while the sun was still high in the sky. Maloch had adjusted the outcome of that spell, a dangerous proposition so that Ranoct would be exiting the spell at night. Dunewell was counting on the drastic change to their surroundings to, at the very least, give Ranoct and his men pause. The girls by the fire should be easy enough for them to see, and perhaps the whole scene would cause enough disorientation that Dunewell and Maloch wouldn’t have too much trouble ‘commandeering’ horses.

“Pass me your rope,” Dunewell said as he and Maloch crept around the meadow toward the area where Ranoct would likely emerge. “I have an idea.”

Maloch did as Dunewell asked, having to shift one hand from the large tree limb he procured as a weapon. Dunewell had pointed out that none of Ranoct’s troops were to be harmed, and Maloch agreed whole-heartedly. Thus, clubbing weapons were all they carried.

As they stalked through the woods, Dunewell began tying loops in the rope, keeping them about eight feet apart. Once he’d tied more than a dozen loops in a single stretch of rope, he coiled it about one forearm. Dunewell and Maloch waited, both realizing that this time, the time of waiting, was the most dangerous for a soldier. Waiting is when soldiers fell asleep or when they grew too anxious. Waiting sometimes caused them to act too soon. Yet, Dunewell and Maloch were both seasoned warriors and knew the pitfalls of surveillance, and both handled the temptations of the slow moments with the stoicism of professional soldiers.

As they watched, the air before the glade began to shimmer like the air heated about a red-hot stove. The shimmering continued, quickened, until all at once eight stout horses were thrust upon the small grove making a violent entrance, kicking up dead leaves all around, and stirring the fog of the night with their hot breath.

The experienced soldiers reined in their horses immediately, and weapons slipped from scabbards and rings with little to no effort. Each set of eyes among them scanned their surroundings, pausing only briefly on the two young girls sitting next to the campfire only a few yards away. The air was thick with the smell of cooked meat and freshly boiled stew, an idea suggested by Dunewell, who had traveled the hungry road of one in pursuit before.

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